


Hiraeth

by xingyvns



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fighting, HEHE :DDDD, Impulse work again, IwaOi is stressful, Iwaizumi is angry, M/M, Oblivious Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa is Angry, Pining Iwaizumi Hajime, Volleyball, hanamaki is doing his best, i did it, i edited it, i lied i cant edit it anymore, knee injury, matsukawa is best boy, not edited ill come back to that in the morning, oikawa is stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xingyvns/pseuds/xingyvns
Summary: Homesickness, a sense of regret, longing. Iwaizumi wishes he could go back to what he once called home. His hiraeth that he shared with Oikawa.updated june 10th, 2020.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

_ “This is the third time this week, Oikawa.”  _

_ The mentioned male remained hunched over, sweaty hands tightly gripping his equally moist thighs as he panted, gulping the humid air of the large gym. He knew this was a bad habit of his, a terrible one really, but he had to get better. He couldn’t be outshone by an underclassmen, Kageyama Tobio of all people, a pathetic  _ child _ who shouldn’t even have an inkling of hope that he could surpass him, especially in his final year of junior high. _

_ “Oi, Shittykawa, don’t ignore me,” Iwaizumi said sternly as he furrowed his eyebrows, moving away from the open door to walk closer to him. “It’s three hours after practice, you’re going to overwork yourself.” _

_ He knows. It’s so painfully obvious, from the burning sensation in his lungs to the constant ache in his limbs. He knows.  _

_ “Aw, is Iwa-chan worried for me?” Although it was meant to be a casual, playful remark, the labored breaths in between did nothing to comfort Iwaizumi. The attempted feign of casualness was destroyed by the mere struggle it took for him to utter that sentence. _

_ “Go get changed, I’ll clean up the gym.” _

-

That was  _ three _ years ago, but guess who still hasn’t learned. Old habits die hard, after all, but that was no excuse for Oikawa to continue burning himself out. The fire in him was as bright as ever, but even it had a limit. He never considered that possibility as an excuse, but more so a motivation that seemed to push him to his full potential, and then some. A method to truly surpass and become the greatest setter there could be. That was all he could ask for, and he knew he  _ had _ to polish this talent. This natural-born ability that screamed at him to push harder, work longer, do  _ better _ .

“Oikawa, it’s been an hour already, Iwaizumi isn’t going to wait for you any longer,” Hanamaki called into the gym, the cool air from the open door flooding in and washing over Oikawa, as if a cloud had been pressed down on him.

He turned to face him, a tired smile that seemed more like a grimace serving as his response. One that Hanamaki was, unfortunately, very familiar with.

Hanamaki merely sighed, giving him a look of disappointment. It was unfortunate that Oikawa, too, was accustomed to this.

Old habits die hard for Oikawa, that is. 

He faced forward. He couldn’t dwell on this any longer - he had to train. He had the stamina, the endurance, the passion; everything he needed to push forward. Grabbing another worn volleyball from the cart, he threw it up in the air and began his running start. The exhilaration that used to come with this process faded; the once rush of adrenaline that caused all thoughts to stop, all sound and momentary commotion, vanished. All that was left was the strain in his muscles, and the ache in his limbs from the constant repetition. His knee begged him to stop, to take a break and just sit down, but his mind refused. His will was too strong. He was far too stubborn, too convinced, to back down now. He knew if he did, if he stopped before his scheduled break day, he’d fall behind. Kageyama would soar past him in a heartbeat, taking his title as the best setter in Miyagi, and soon, that of the nation. 

That talented little shit, someone who had absolutely no sense of teamwork or consideration for those around him, who  _ just could not _ for the life of him, recognize that volleyball was a team sport, was going to surpass him. Oikawa,  _ The Grand King _ , the one who polished this talent for years, the one who pushed his teammates  _ and _ himself to their limits,  _ as a team _ . The one who fully acknowledged how to use those around him for their own talents as well - Iwaizumi’s powerful spikes and quick thinking, Matsukawa’s tactful and terrifying blocks, Kyotani’s - dare he say - spikes that could rival Ushijima Wakatoshi himself, and the rest of his teammates that bring what is known as  _ Aoba Johsai’s Volleyball Team. _

But he wants to earn the right to stay there. To be their captain - to be their setter that guides them throughout the game. To be the person they could be  _ proud _ to have as their leader.

But if he made absolutely no progress, if he lazed behind and became the  _ “Lazykawa” _ Iwaizumi oh-so affectionately calls him, then he would lose that privilege - and that would be the last straw for him. His teammates’ support was essential. It always has been and always would be.

His red hand stung as it smacked the volleyball, causing it to fly across the gym and land in the corner of the bounds, before rolling off to the several others scattered on the floor. The resonating  _ fwump _ was no longer satisfying. It no longer brought him joy that he held such power or such accuracy that could intimidate his opponents off the playing field. It was a mere noise that faded within an instant, just as his talent seemed to be.

His wrist was starting to hurt, the ache he had grown accustomed to becoming harsher from the constant repetition of the same motion. 

He ignored it in favor of another volleyball.

He heard the door close faintly, the loud groaning of the rusted hinges being an immediate give away that Hanamaki had left him after seeing his serve. He spun the volleyball in his hands, his form stiff yet limping as he listened quietly and rather intently for other foot steps. His labored breathing made it difficult, echoing off the walls of the gym as he strained to hear the faintest of sounds. Throughout the years, he had learned what certain people's footsteps sounded like - Hanamaki had faster yet heavier steps while Iwaizumi, on the other hand, had swift and light steps. That is, unless he was mad yet again. This would mean his footsteps were rather angrier and would be considered stomps instead. Matsukawa had silent footsteps - slow and languid that matched his nature. Kyoutani was a wild card - he’d either be heavy, loud, and hurried or quiet, nimble, and agile. 

He hoped for the familiar, angry foot falls of Iwaizumi to begin shaking the walls of the gym, or the sounds of yelling and laughter outside the door to indicate that the team came looking for him, or even the slower and calmer steps of his coaches on the gravel to tell him to take a break - that he was enough and that he didn’t need to push himself any further. But even with all these hopeful, optimistic thoughts, he knew they were just wishes on a shooting star - never meant to be.

Oikawa wasn’t surprised when the only sound that greeted him was his own labored breathing and the abundant drops of sweat hitting the wooden floor.

-

Iwaizumi had learned after his first year at Aoba Johsai that Oikawa would not stop. Not after three years of the same nagging in Junior High, not after his knee injury that threatened his volleyball career, and not after their team came after him day after day constantly to remind him that he  _ needed _ a break. And to be frank, he was getting tired of continuously going back to tell him the same things.

He wasn’t his mother, he wasn’t his babysitter - they were third years now, nearly eighteen - and if he needed someone that was a mere month older than him to tell him that this was dangerous; that this could ruin his future, he needed to learn to grow up on his own. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be there for him 24/7 to tell him right from wrong, he had his own life and pathway that he wanted to choose. And, as much as he cared for Oikawa and his health and future, he wasn’t going to let him stop that.

So when Hanamaki jogged back without Oikawa, that same frown that he became so used to seeing after someone asked and the solemn shake of his head, his own resolve merely hardened. 

If he didn’t want to spend time with his  _ friends _ , then he wouldn’t force him to. After all, he seemed fairly content spending all his free time with volleyballs. If this wasn’t such a detrimental situation in his eyes, he’d joke that Oikawa would end up marrying volleyballs instead of a real person. It was unfortunate, really, that he had no one to say it to anymore.

He swore that this wouldn’t dampen his mood before Hanamaki left - he swore to the entire team - but the growing frown on his face and his crossed arms did nothing to convince his fellow third years. His eyes remained downcast, as if glaring at the very earth they walked on for not having the power to forcibly drag Oikawa to them. His lips wavered, beginning to tremble - from sheer anger or sadness? Who knows. 

“Iwaizumi, we’ll get him next time —”

“Don’t bother,” He cut off Matsukawa, his frown less frightening than the tone of his voice. He sounded somber, somewhat defeated, as if they had just lost their ticket to nationals. If his near-trembling voice didn’t give it away, his stance did. His posture was slouched slightly, his hands dropping to listlessly follow the beat of his steps. His feet were starting to drag behind him ever so slightly, the sound of his sneakers scraping against the pavement echoed between the small group. 

“If he prefers practice over us, who are we to stop him?”

-

Oikawa may not look like it, but he was observant. His eyes may appear soft and innocuous, but anyone who’s seen him in a game even once knows that his eyes see everything - they follow the ball every second of the game, calculating the next move and observing their opponents in the background of the chaos. They followed his teammates and their positions, learning where to set, who to set to, what type of set, and how to trick his opponents with his tactics.

So, it wasn’t difficult for him to notice that Iwaizumi Hajime, his childhood best friend, teammate and, let’s not forget, his crush, was distancing himself from him. There weren’t many tell tale signs or even real evidence that he could use to back up this theory, but he could just  _ feel _ it. He was seemingly leaving him, going farther distances with other people and developing himself, all while attempting to push Oikawa away. He  _ knew _ he felt this. And it was painful. It was so painful watching someone that was so important and significant in his life, stand next to him and refuse to acknowledge him any further. To refuse to continue to make the attempt to  _ help _ him. 

  
  
  


It wasn’t noticeable at first, if he was being honest, he didn’t even know when it started; after all, he grew up with him and learned every little habit and quirk of his. The endearing names remained,  _ ‘Oi Trashykawa, I got your milk bread,’  _ ‘ _ Assikawa, get off your ass and help me with the net,’  _ and the most recent nickname that he oh-so loved,  _ ‘Crappykawa, stop being so crappy and get over here.’ _ It was the only thing he held on to to believe that his bond could be fixed - that this distance that came between them was some kind of phase that would pass soon.

But they lost their banterous bite to them after the first day, the once familiar air filling into nothingness as a cold void began to seep through their once strong bond. The little cracks and petty fights began to grow bigger, the cracks soon crumbling parts of their bond that once held steady and stiff. Little insecurities began poking their way through, the smallest detail shining with gleaming eyes just screaming to be used as an attack to  _ protect _ themselves. Their ego, their pride, whatever little bit of self-worth they held or egotistical stubbornness. Any little thing that they could use as a weapon - a defense mechanism - was utilized to its fullest potential. 

_ Self Destructive. Arrogant. Self Absorbed. Fake. Phony. Conceited. Detached. Desperate. Stubborn. Hypocritical. Idiotic. Insecure.  _ **_Imperfect._ **

He was  _ too _ imperfect to stand by Iwaizumi’s side any longer - his flaws hiding his few perfections. He feared that if he stood by him any longer, he would taint his best friend's perfection. Perhaps Iwaizumi finally realized that. After all, he had no hesitation pointing it out any longer. Oikawa knew Iwaizumi could be cruel, using one’s weaknesses and insecurities to get out of a fight he knew he would lose. It seemed to be a losing battle right from the beginning.

He finally realized, after all these years, that this _delusional, hypocritical,_ ** _imperfect_** little boy had no right to stand next to a perfect being such as Iwaizumi, or even on the same court as him. That privilege was long lost as his persona built faster and faster over the years, soon solidifying into what he is today. 

But he refused to accept that. Why would he - he stood by his side longer than anyone else on this team and he’d be damned if he left it so willingly. He was his childhood friend - his  _ best _ friend! They’ve been through thick and thin and even more than that, so he refused to give it up. He wanted so badly, with all his power and might, to hold onto this sense of security that their bond had built. Yet, no matter what he did, nothing seemed to bring Iwaizumi back to his side as securely as before. And that’s what hurt Oikawa the most; he thought he knew him better than anyone, better than anyone else in the team or any of his other friends because he  _ did _ . He knew this for a fact. Hell - he could name his top five least favorite dogs and his top two favorite types of squirrels! So why - why couldn’t he figure out what he was doing that was pushing his best friend away?

-

Iwaizumi was tired. 

Though, that was an understatement if he was being honest. Rather, that wasn’t even the right word anymore. He was disappointed. In himself, in Oikawa, in his team, he wasn’t sure. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if disappointment could truly embody what he was… feeling. Was he mentally drained? Maybe physically fatigued? Or perhaps, he was just bored of the lackluster lifestyle he had? Each and every thought he conjured never seemed to properly convey what he was feeling any longer. He just couldn’t pinpoint it at all. Was it because of him? Or was it because of Oikawa?

Had his feelings really changed? Had he already hit his breaking point with Oikawa? Sure it had been more than six years, but he had built a tolerance to this. He knew how Oikawa was - self destructive, insecure, self absorbed, detached, stubborn,  _ perfect _ . A flawed being that seemed so fragile at times that he forgot to remind himself - he was human. He had flaws that made him so fragile and imperfect, no matter if Iwaizumi saw him as the most perfect human being sometimes.

Above all of these flaws, above all of the so-called imperfections he pointed out himself, he was perfect. And it broke him, more than anything in the world, that Oiakwa himself couldn’t realize this. This painfully obvious trait that everyone in the world - even a blind man from two miles away - could notice. But he’s realized that maybe  _ he _ was the problem.

Originally, he had assumed that his babying and constant nagging would eventually help open his eyes to what he was doing to himself - destroying his body. After all, that is what should be assumed. They were raised in that kind of manner; nagging, constant reminders until it was ingrained in their mind and slowly became clearer as they grew up. But maybe,  _ he _ was the arrogant one - the one who wasn’t sure what he was doing. Maybe he was the reason that Oikawa refused to back down, refused to give up no matter who yelled at him or what the consequences were. Could this be considered some kind of rebellious face? An act of independence and a silent message to Iwaizumi -  _ I’m not a child. _ Is that what he was trying to say? He couldn’t help but hope it wasn’t what he was trying to convey, because to Iwaizumi, this was his only purpose to Oikawa. To be the nagging friend that kept him in check, the childhood duo that never separated, some kind of  _ title _ that held them and their reputation together. Without that… what was his purpose? What was the reason he stood with Oikawa?

His feet moved without his command, a slow walk slowly inching towards a jog before breaking into a full on sprint. It was as if his legs had a mind of their own - as if they were being pulled to Oikawa. He didn’t even need to ask where he would even possibly be going at this hour - not when the lights to their schools gym began illuminating his path, and the heart wrenching cacophony of sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floors began to echo in the silent night.

-

He was deteriorating. 

Every little aspect of him was beginning to crumble, the walls of progress and years of polished talent beginning to disintegrate into mere pieces of debris grinded into dust. But he refused to let this stop him - there had to be a way, he  _ knew _ there was a way to surpass pure, genius talent. He had done it before, why couldn’t he do it again?

His knee pulsed under the white knee brace that seemed to suffocate him, clinging from his sweat and becoming uncomfortably annoying. He knew the consequences that would come if he were to slip it off, especially with the serve he was attempting to perfect, but he couldn’t stop his hands from inching towards the white velcro holding his supporter on securely. It was a simple process that he did everyday - a quick rip off of the velcro to free his knee was all it would take. Yes… a quick process that would offer him the relief he’s been begging for for longer than he could even recall. The consequences  _ couldn’t _ be that bad - he’s been keeping it on for as long as the doctor had ordered him to, so damage  _ should _ be minimal, right?

He seemed to zero in on his knee brace, barely tainted by his sweat as he released the volleyball to roll on the sleek gym floors. His hands were trembling, from exhaustion or anticipation, he wasn’t sure. He gripped the jutting flap, the freedom in his grasp,right in his hands --

The gym doors slammed open, a dastardly loud  _ boom _ that, at that moment, Oikawa would compare to a firework bursting right by his ears, startling him beyond belief. He stumbled, tripping over himself as his vision cleared as he finally took in his surroundings while he stumbled to turn around. It was a clumsy sight to say the least - his feet were not fit for dancing as he nearly tripped over them each passing second, his clammy hands held out in a t-pose as he tried to steady his stance, his flustered face and wide eyes giving away his momentary fear.

But Iwaizumi was not phased. Nor was he amused in the slightest at the sight before his eyes. Hundreds of Mikasa balls scattered around the gym, listlessly rolling or sitting idly by the net or the opposing side of the court, some even rolling by and stopping at Oikawa’s feet. Beads of sweat ran down Oikawa’s legs, face, neck, arms, everywhere - his white jersey clinging to his back from the sheer abundance of it. His hair seemed to be damp, the usual fluff gone and replaced with a deflated reject. His eyes though, were what terrified him. It held the same gaze all those years ago, back at Kitagawa Daiichi - this  _ feral _ glare that held no humanity for a brief moment, a flash of insanity. 

But the gaze faded once it landed on Iwaizumi, much to his silent relief. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved at the new gaze set upon him. A curious one filled with hope - a childish gaze that held so many questions, yet, preparing a barrage of defenses if the answers weren’t what he wished for. A gaze he was all too familiar with.

“Kusokawa,” his stern voice echoed in the gym, the only undertone being Oikawa’s labored breathing. The endearing phrases no longer held a snarky bite or playful jab in them anymore, but it wasn’t intentional. He just hoped Oikawa knew that. He hoped this silent telepathy that they shared still remained, even after the distance between them seemed to grow past anything he would’ve believed.

“Hajime,” Oikawa greeted, standing straighter but with a gait of a lazy emperor - head and back tilted towards the Mikasa balls behind him, hand resting on his hip while he glowered. Although he used his first name, there was no hint of any remaining familiarity between the two of them. The air seemed to fill with animosity - two kings, standing against each other with their knights nowhere in sight.

“What the  **hell** were you thinking?” his voice rose just barely, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he stepped into the gym properly. His gaze narrowed towards Oikawa’s white knee brace, the one moments away from being removed and tossed to the side, as if it didn’t serve any purpose anymore. 

“It’s a restraint - this - this  _ bullshit _ about it  _ helping _ me is just - it’s just bullshit! Ever since I’ve needed this knee brace, my performances have gone down -- if I just took it off for one serve --!” His voice was becoming desperate by the second, his movements turning frantic as his hands tugged at his hair wildly, his eyes widening and the craze behind them showing through.

“If you fucking touch your knee brace during practice, you’re only going to hinder your healing process. You and I both know this, you’re not a dumbass,  _ dumbass _ .”   
  
Oikawa didn’t halt at the sudden declaration, refusing to even really acknowledge it. It surprised Iwaizumi at the lack of reply or even reaction to that, but he knew he shouldn't have been too surprised. They wouldn’t be able to call the other their best friend any longer, not with this tension and this animosity lingering between them.

“It’s a fucking  _ restraint _ . It stops my knee from moving!-- it stops me from  _ polishing _ and  _ nurturing _ my talent like I should be!” He screamed, his voice being the only thing echoing off the walls. His left leg stepped forward, his stance shifting as he used his body language to emphasize more and more - his hands trying to go closer to Iwaizumi, as if he was some kind of unreachable deity that would burn him the second they connected. 

“Fine!  _ Please,  _ ruin yourself for me and I’ll watch you fall apart! I’ll watch you collapse, unable to stand up in our game  _ right before nationals _ ! I’ll watch you get placed on a stretcher and sent to the hospital because you’ve damaged your knee beyond repair!  _ I’ll sit back and watch you destroy yourself and all this  _ talent _ you’ve polished!  _ Is that what you fucking want?!”

“Why don’t you tell me, Iwa-chan?” His eyes seemed to narrow even more, resembling that of a snake if anything as he sneered. “Since you  _ always _ tell me what to do with my fucking life,” he spat. The venom seemed to drool off of him, seeping into the air and Iwaizumi’s lungs.

Iwaizumi merely shook his head, “I can’t do this anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi!
> 
> i just came to say that i edited the story entirely and kinda revamped it, but if you wanted to see the older and uglier is version, here it is!

_ “This is the third time this week, Oikawa.”  _

_ The mentioned male remained hunched over, sweaty hands on his equally moist thighs as he panted, gulping the humid air of the large gym. He knew this was a bad habit of his, but he had to get better - he couldn’t be outshone by an underclassmen of all  _ _ people _ _ , especially in his  _ _ final year of junior high _ _. _

_ “Oi, Shittykawa, don’t ignore me,” Iwaizumi said sternly, moving away from the open door to walk towards the hunched over male. “It’s three hours after practice, you’re going to overwork yourself.” _

_ He knows. _

_ “Aw, is Iwa-chan worried for me?” Although it was meant to be a casual, playful remark, the labored breaths in between did nothing to comfort Iwaizumi.  _

_ “Go get changed, I’ll clean up the gym.” _

-

That was  _ three _ years ago, but guess who still hasn’t learned. Old habits die hard, after all, but that was no excuse for Oikawa to continue burning himself out. He never considered it an excuse, more so a habit that seemed to push him to his full potential and then some.

“Oikawa, it’s been an hour already, Iwaizumi isn’t going to wait for you any longer,” Hanamaki called into the gym, the cool air from the open door flooding in and allowing room for Oikawa to breathe - if even for a moment.

He turned to face him, a tired smile that seemed more like a grimace serving as his response. One that Hanamaki was, unfortunately, very familiar with.

Hanamaki merely sighed, giving him one last look before closing the door.

Old habits die hard for Oikawa, that is. 

He faced forward, grabbing another volleyball from the cart, throwing it up in the air, and beginning his running start. The exhilaration that used to come with this  process  faded, all that was left was the strain in his muscles and the ache in his arms and legs from the constant repetition. His knee begged him to stop, take a break and just sit down, but his mind refused. He knew if he did that, if he stopped before his scheduled break day, he’d fall behind. Kageyama would soar past him in a heartbeat, taking his title as the best setter in Miyagi before that of the nation. 

That talented little shit, someone who had absolutely no sense of teamwork or consideration for those around him, who  _ just could not _ for the life of him, recognize that volleyball was a team sport, was going to surpass him. Oikawa,  _ The Grand King _ , the one who polished this talent for years, the one who pushed his teammates  _ and _ himself to their limits,  _ as a team _ . The one who fully acknowledged how to use those around him for their own talents as well - Iwaizumi’s powerful spikes and quick thinking, Matsukawa’s tactful and terrifying blocks, Kyotani’s - dare he say - spikes that could rival Ushijima Wakatoshi himself, and the rest of his teammates that bring what is known as  _ Aoba Johsai’s Volleyball Team. _

And he wants to earn the right to stay there. To be their captain - to be their setter that guides them throughout the game. 

But if he made absolutely no progress, if he lazed behind and became the  _ lazykawa _ Iwaizumi oh-so affectionately calls him, then he would lose that privilege - and that would be the last straw for him. 

His red hand stung as it smacked the volleyball as hard as he could, causing it to fly across the gym and land in the corner of the bounds before rolling off to the several others scattered on the floor. 

His wrist was starting to hurt, the constant repetition of the same motion starting to have its effect. 

He ignored it in favor of another volleyball.

He heard the door close, the loud groaning of the old hinges being an immediate give away that Hanamaki had left him after seeing his serve. He spun the volleyball in his hands, his form stiff as he listened quietly but rather intently for other foot steps. 

He hoped for the familiar, angry foot falls of Iwaizumi to begin shaking the walls of the gym, or the sounds of yelling and laughter outside the door to indicate that the team came looking for him, or even the slower and calmer steps of his coaches on the gravel to tell him to take a break - that he was enough and that he didn’t need to push himself any further.

The only sound that greeted him was his own labored breathing and the scarce drops of sweat hitting the wooden floor.

-

Iwaizumi had learned after their first year at Aoba Johsai that Oikawa would not stop. Not after three years of the same nagging in Junior High, not after his knee injury, not after their team came after him day after day constantly to remind him that he needed a break. And to be frank, he was getting tired of continuously going back to tell him the same things.

He wasn’t his mother, he wasn’t his babysitter - they were third years now, nearly eighteen - and if he needed someone that was a mere month older than him to tell him that this was dangerous, that this could ruin his future, then he needed to learn to grow up on his own. Iwaizumi wouldn’t be there for him 24/7 to tell him right from wrong, he had his own life and pathway that he wanted to choose. And, as much as he cared for Oikawa, he wasn’t going to let him stop that.

So when Hanamaki jogged back without Oikawa, that same frown that he became accustomed to seeing after someone asked, his own resolve merely hardened. 

If he didn’t want to spend time with his  _ friends _ , then he wouldn’t force him to. After all, he seemed fairly content spending all his free time with volleyballs.

He swore that this wouldn’t dampen his mood, but the growing frown on his face and his crossed arms did nothing to convince his fellow third years. 

“Iwaizumi, we’ll get him next time —”

“Don’t bother,” He cut off Matsukawa, his frown less frightening than the tone of his voice. He sounded somber, somewhat defeated, even if it wasn’t obvious. If his voice didn’t give it away, his stance did. His posture was slouched slightly, his hands dropping to listlessly follow the beat of his steps, his feet starting to drag behind him ever so slightly as the sound of his sneakers scraping the pavement echoed between the small group. 

“If he prefers practice over us, who are we to stop him? ”

-

Oikawa may not look like it, but he was rather observant. His eyes may have seemed soft, but anyone who’s seen him in a game knows that they see everything - they follow the ball every second of the game, calculating the next best move and observing their opponents in the background of the chaos. So it wasn’t difficult for him to notice that Iwaizumi Hajime, his childhood best friend and teammate and, let’s not forget, his crush, was distancing himself from him.

For what reason, he only had little hunches with no real evidence to go off of. 

It didn’t start off as noticeable - after all, Iwaizumi grew up with him and learned every little habit of his. The endearing names stayed,  _ ‘Oi Trashykawa, I got your milk bread,’  _ ‘ _ Assikawa, get off your ass and help me with the net,’  _ and the most recent nickname that he oh-so loved,  _ ‘Crappykawa, stop being so crappy and get over here.’ _

But they lost their bite to them after the first day, the once familiar air filling into nothingness as a cold void began to seep through their strong bond. The little cracks and petty fights began to grow bigger, the cracks soon crumbling parts of their bond that once held steady. Little insecurities poked their way through, the smallest detail shining with gleaming eyes just screaming to be used as an attack. 

_ Self Destructive. Arrogant. Self Absorbed. Fake. Phony. Conceited. Detached. Desperate. Stubborn. Hypocritical. Idiotic. Insecure.  _ **_Imperfect._ **

He was  _ too _ imperfect to stand by Iwaizumi’s side any longer - his flaws hiding his few perfections. Perhaps, Iwaizumi finally realized that.

He finally realized after all these years, that this _delusional, hypocritical,_ ** _imperfect_** little boy had no right to stand next to him or even on the same court as him - that right was long lost as his persona built faster and faster over the years. 

But he didn’t want to accept that. Why would he - he stood by his side longer than anyone else on this team and he’d be damned if he left it so willingly.  Yet, no matter what he did, nothing seemed to bring Iwaizumi back to his side as securely as before. And that’s what hurt Oikawa the most; he thought he knew him better than anyone, better than anyone else in the team or any of his other friends because he  _ did _ . He knew this for a fact. So why - why couldn’t he figure out what he was doing to drive away his best friend?

-

Iwaizumi was tired. Though, that was an understatement if he was honest. Rather, that wasn’t even the right word anymore. He was disappointed. In himself, in Oikawa, in his team, he wasn’t sure. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if disappointment could truly embody what he was… feeling. 

Had his feelings really changed? Had he already hit his breaking point with Oikawa? Sure it had been more than six years, but he had built a tolerance to this. He knew how Oikawa was - self destructive, insecure, self absorbed, detached, stubborn,  _ perfect _ . 

Above all of these flaws, above all of the so-called imperfections he pointed out himself, he was perfect. And it broke him, more than anything in the world, that Oiakwa himself couldn’t realize this. But he’s realized that he might’ve been the problem.

Originally he had assumed that his babying and constant nagging would eventually help open his eyes to what he was doing to himself - destroying his body. But maybe,  _ he _ was the arrogant one - the one who wasn’t sure what he was doing. Maybe he was the reason that Oikawa refused to back down, refused to give up no matter who yelled at him or what the consequences were.

His feet moved without his command, a slow walk slowly inching towards a jog before breaking into a full on sprint. He didn’t even need to ask where he would even possibly be going at this hour - not when the lights to their schools gym began illuminating his path, and the heart wrenching sounds of sneakers squeaking against the polished gym floors began to echo in the silent night.

-

He was deteriorating. Every little aspect of him was beginning to crumble, the walls of progress and years of polished talent beginning to disintegrate into mere pieces of debris grinded into dust. But he refused to let this stop him - there had to be a way, he  _ knew _ there was a way to surpass pure, genius talent. He had done it before, why can’t he do it again?

His knee pulsed under the white knee brace that seemed to suffocate him, clinging from his sweat and becoming uncomfortably annoying. He knew the consequences that would come if he were to slip it off, especially with the serve he was attempting to perfect, but he couldn’t stop his hands from inching towards the white velcro holding his supporter on securely. It was a simple process that he did everyday - a quick rip off of the velcro to free his knee was all it would take.

He seemed to zero in on his knee brace, barely tainted by his sweat as he released the volleyball to roll on the sleek gym floors. His hands were shaking, trembling from exhaustion or anticipation, he wasn’t sure. He gripped the jutting flap, the freedom in his grasp of his prime in his hands --

The gym doors slammed open, a  _ boom _ that, at that moment, Oikawa would compare to a firework bursting right by his ears, startling him beyond belief. He stumbled, his vision clearing as he finally took in his surroundings as he stumbled to turn around. It was a clumsy sight to say the least - his feet were not fit for dancing as he nearly tripped over them, his clammy hands held out in a t-pose as he tried to steady his stance, his flustered face and wide eyes giving away his momentary fear.

But Iwaizumi was not phased. Nor was he amused in the slightest at the sight before his eyes. Hundreds of Mikasa balls scattered around the gym, listlessly rolling or sitting idly by the net or the opposing side of the court, some even rolling by Oikawa’s feet. Beads of sweat ran down Oikawa’s legs, face, neck, arms, everywhere - his white jersey clinging to his back from the sheer abundance of it. His hair seemed to be damp, the usual fluff gone and replaced with a deflated reject. His eyes though, were what terrified him. It held the same gaze all those years ago, back at Kitagawa Daiichi - this  _ feral _ glare that held no humanity for a brief moment, a flash of insanity. 

But the gaze faded once it landed on Iwaizumi, much to his silent relief. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved at the new gaze set upon him. A curious one filled with hope - a childish gaze that held so many questions, yet, preparing a barrage of defenses if the answers weren’t what he wished for.

“Kusokawa,” his stern voice echoed in the gym, the only undertone being Oikawa’s labored breathing. The endearing phrases no longer held a snarky bite or playful nature towards them anymore, but it wasn’t intentional. He just hoped Oikawa knew that.

“Hajime,” Oikawa greeted, standing straighter but with a gait of a lazy emperor - head and back tilted back, hand resting on his hip while he glowered. Although he used his first name, there was no hint of any remaining familiarity between the two of them.

“What the hell were you thinking?” his voice rose barely, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he stepped into the gym properly. His gaze narrowed towards Oikawa’s white knee brace, the one moments away from being removed and tossed to the side, as if it didn’t serve any purpose anymore. 

“It’s a restraint - this-- this bullshit about it  _ helping _ me is just - it’s just bullshit! Ever since I’ve needed this knee brace, my performances have gone down-- if I just took it off for one serve--!” His voice was becoming desperate by the second, his movements turning frantic as his hands waved in emphasis, his eyes widening and the craze behind them showing through.

“If you fucking touch your knee brace during practice, you’re only going to hinder your healing process. You and I both know this, you’re not a dumbass, dumbass.”   
  
Oikawa didn’t halt at the sudden declaration, refusing to even really acknowledge it. 

“It’s a  _ restraint _ . It stops my knee from moving-- it stops me from  _ polishing _ and  _ nurturing _ my talent like I should be!” He shouted, his voice being the only thing echoing off the walls. His left leg stepped forward, his stance shifting as he used his body language to emphasize more and more - his hands trying to go closer to Iwaizumi, as if he was some kind of unreachable deity. 

“Fine!  _ Please  _ ruin yourself for me and I’ll watch you fall apart! I’ll watch you collapse, unable to stand up in our game  _ right before nationals _ ! I’ll watch you get placed on a stretcher and sent to the hospital because you’ve damaged your knee beyond repair!  _ I’ll sit back and watch you destroy yourself and all this  _ talent _ you’ve polished!  _ Is that what you fucking want?!”

“Why don’t you tell me, Iwa-chan?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I used all of the nicknames Iwaizumi called Oikawa that were listed on the wiki. I wrote this at like, one in the morning and it took me a month to finish because of exams.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed and asked for!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I own none of the characters used - they were used purely for entertainment purposes.


End file.
